Revelation
by Lauren779
Summary: When surprising information comes up regarding the building explosion that took Shay's life, House 51 is in for an adjustment. Meanwhile, tensions heat up between 51 and Austin, causing the Fire Commissioner to take drastic measures to resolve it. *Ensemble cast fic*
1. Chapter 1

**REVELATION**

* * *

**A/N:** To whoever is reading this: Hi! Thank you for stopping by and checking out my story. Sorry for the long-winded Author's Note, but I think it is best I explain some of the plot points for this particular story. If you have (or have not read) any of my previous stories, I usually follow the show's timeline and take a few creative liberties. In this story, I will be some-what following the Season 3 timeline in regards to Shay's death (I know—but my motto is change the things I cannot accept) and it being linked to arson, and other events that have already happened. It will not be following the timeline of the cross-over, and I will be taking A LOT of creative liberties with this story because I just can't deal with Chicago Fire's writers' decision to kill her off. So, just keep that in mind if you continue to read this story. Thank you, and as always, I hope I write something that is worth reading.

**SUMMARY:** When surprising information comes up regarding the building explosion that took Shay's life, House 51 is in for an adjustment. Meanwhile, tensions heat up between 51 and Austin, causing the Fire Commissioner to take drastic measures to resolve it.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

MILLS sat in the waiting room of Dr. Bachman's office. He was due back at the Firehouse by noon, and his scheduled appointment for 9:30am had already past—he looked down at his watch—an hour ago.

The Receptionist, a young 20-something year old, with black hair and pale green eyes, noticed Mill's fidgeting in his seat. With a sympathetic smile on her face she said, "I'm sorry. He'll be with you in a moment. He had a lot of patients this morning."

Mills turned to look at the Receptionist. He didn't want to come off as rude, but he had to return to work. If anything, he would reschedule his appointment so it landed on his next day off.

Just before Mills could speak, Dr. Bachman appeared in the waiting room, followed by the patient he had just seen. He noticed Mills looking directly at him. He pointed the folder he had in his hand at Mills and said, "Peter Mills, head to exam room 3. I'll be with you in a minute."

Mills gathered his belongings and made his way into exam room 3, and put his workbag on the empty chair before he sat down on the exam table. As Dr. Bachman promised, he had come into the room within a minute while reading Mills' medical chart.

"So, Peter, how have you been?" Dr. Bachman asked once he stopped reading the file. "How's your vertigo? Have you been doing the exercises I recommended for you?"

"I've been good, actually. I haven't had an episode in a long time. I am able to do the exercises without triggering an episode," Mills said.

"That's good," Dr. Bachman began to say. "Are you working now?"

Mills nodded his head. "I'm a paramedic at the same house."

Dr. Bachman looked at Mills skeptically. "I'm sensing a but..."

"Don't get me wrong, I like being a paramedic. I like my partner too, it's just"—

"You're a firefighter," Dr. Bachman interrupted.

Mills sighed heavily. "That's all I ever wanted to do."

"You know, Peter, the vertigo you have, there is no cure. Treatment can help ease the symptoms, and in worse case scenarios, surgery is the only option. In this case, as with all medical conditions, no two people are alike."

"I understand," Mills said, and the hint of disappointment was evident in his voice.

"Lie down for me," Dr. Bachman ordered and Mills complied. Dr. Bachman turned Mill's head slightly, performing the same epley maneuver he had done the first time Mill's came into his office, and smiled when he noticed Mills' eyes remained still and focused. He continued to test all head positions, occasionally asking Mills how he was feeling.

"I wouldn't be so down. In some cases, the vertigo resolves itself on its own," Dr. Bachman began to say as Mills sat himself up on the table. "There seems to be major improvement since the last visit. I'll report my findings to Chief Boden and go from there. In the meantime, just keep up with the exercises, and if you do experience another episode, contact me."

"Thanks," Mills said as he got up from the table. "I appreciate it."

* * *

SEVERIDE stood in front of Leslie Shay's memorial plaque. No matter how many times he had stopped to look at it in the months since she had died, it still seemed so surreal to him—like it was all just a terrible nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

He tried to remember what happened on that afternoon in May, but his memories were starting to contradict themselves. He could have sworn that Squatters caused the fire, but ever since opening that storage facility, and Dawson finding newspaper clippings of the fire that took Shay's life, made him re-think exactly what he had seen.

He had been able to bribe the Landlord of the building to allow him back in, and with Dawson beside him; they had indeed discovered that it was arson that started the fire, which meant that Shay was murdered. The two of them had immediately reported their findings to Captain Lynette Cunningham, who worked arson cases, and she assured them she would look into it and contact them as soon as she heard anything.

That had been two weeks ago and they hadn't heard anything from Captain Cunningham.

Until now.

Dawson made her way toward Severide, stopping once she was beside him. She too looked at the plaque in silence.

"I assume you got the message," Severide said after a moment, still not taking his eyes off of Shay's picture.

"'_I regret to inform you, but the arson investigation for Leslie Shay will not be pursued at this time. I am sorry. Yours very truly, Captain Lynette Cunningham_.'" Dawson said robotically, quoting some of the e-mail she had received. She left out the part where they were warned, with consequences, to not look into it further.

Dawson turned toward Severide. "What kind of bullshit is that? I say we go back to the building with Cunningham and show her. There's gotta be something we can do."

Severide turned toward Dawson, looking as though he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders that needed to be lifted. "Before I say anything, I need you to know that I don't like any of this. After I got the e-mail, I contacted my Dad, to see if he has any connections that still work arson."

"And?" Dawson asked eagerly.

"And he told me to stop. If the Captain of arson investigation couldn't get anything out of what we presented, it wasn't worth it"—he noticed Dawson roll her eyes –"at this time."

"So that's it? We let an arsonist roam free so he can hurt and kill others?"

"Like I said, I hate this as much as you do. The only thing we can do is remain vigilant. We make sure we are certain how the fire started and report everything that seems suspicious. We have to catch this guy in the act."

Dawson turned back to Shay's plaque, as Severide continued to talk, "Otherwise we will never get justice for Shay."

After a moment of silence, Dawson asked, "So that's it? We sit back and do nothing?"

"For now, we put out fires. We save lives. We make sure this guy, whoever he is, knows he can't get away with what he is doing. And once we catch the son of a bitch responsible, I will make him personally wish that he never started a fire in his life."

* * *

WORD about the arson investigation quickly made its way around the House. Most of the members expressed the same resentful feelings as Dawson and Severide: that it wasn't right, and that the system was broken and failed Shay.

When Mills made his way into the kitchen of 51, coming back from his doctor's appointment, he could feel something was off. Everyone had looked like they had been punched in the gut.

"Did I miss something while I was gone?" He asked everyone in the room as Brett approached him.

"Severide and Dawson received word from Captain Cunningham about Shay's arson investigation," Brett answered. "They aren't pursuing it at this time."

"Are you serious?" Mills asked in disbelief.

"As a heart attack," Herrmann answered from the table he was sitting at. "Case isn't closed, but it's not exactly open either."

"How are Severide and Dawson taking this?" Mills asked.

"As good as can be expected," Casey answered. "They aren't happy about it, and they can't look into it further. Right now, it's just a waiting game."

"The worst waiting game ever," Otis added while shaking his head in disapproval.

"How'd your doctor appointment go, Mills?" Mouch asked from his usual spot on the couch. He had to change the topic because it was depressing him too much.

"It was a doctor's appointment. Nothing that interesting to report." Mills said.

The alarm suddenly rang throughout the house. "_Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. House Fire. West 14__th__ street and Throop."_

* * *

CHIEF Boden sat in his office with the door closed, staring aimlessly at the computer screen. The sun had gone down hours ago, and the night shift had already taken over and was responding to a call. Everyone else had gone to Molly's for an after shift drink.

Boden wanted nothing more than to go home and be with his wife, Donna, and son, Terrence. As he looked at the framed picture of the three of them, that was beside the computer monitor, he was reminded how lucky he was to have them in his life.

Boden put the thought of them aside and reached for the enveloped letter that was addressed to him by Dr. Bachman. He was aware Mills had gone to see the doctor, and knew Dr. Bachman's report would decide if Mills was able to return to Squad on modified duties, or not.

He opened the letter and began to skim through it quickly. There were medical terms Boden had no idea what they meant, but he understood the gist of the letter.

A soft knock on the door drew Boden's attention away from the letter and to Connie, who was standing outside. He motioned for her to come in.

"You're still here?" Boden commented, and Connie gave him a small smile. Boden had to admit that Connie was one of the hardest working Administrative Assistants he had the pleasure of working with.

"I'm just about headed out," Connie answered, but there was something about her facial expression that alerted Boden that there might be something more going on than her usual '_have a goodnight, do you need anything before I leave_' spiel.

"Is everything all right?" Boden asked.

Connie hesitated. "There is someone here that wants to speak with you," She finally said. "They say it's important."

Boden's right eyebrow arched out of curiosity. He wasn't expecting any visitors today, let alone at night. "Who is it?"

Connie went quiet again, but only for a moment. "A U.S. Marshal."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** A big thank you to those who have read and/or reviewed the first chapter. It is much appreciated. Please keep in mind, this story is just a huge creative liberty, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

BODEN stood up from his seat the moment Connie returned to his office accompanied by the U.S. Marshal. As Connie said a quick goodnight to both men, it gave Boden a brief opportunity to quickly study the man in front of him. The U.S. Marshal stood straight and was about Boden's age, balding, and of Hispanic descent. His dark brown eyes mirrored Boden's own.

The U.S. Marshal extended his hand, and Boden shook it. It was a firm handshake, but also friendly. In all the scenarios that played through Boden's mind, he couldn't think of a reason why a U.S. Marshal would be visiting a firehouse.

"Julian Vega," The U.S. Marshal said once both men ended the handshake. "Thank you for agreeing to see me so late, Chief Boden. I am sure you would much rather go home than to talk to me."

As Boden pointed to an empty chair in front of his desk for Vega to have a seat he said, "It's not every day a firehouse gets visited by a U.S. Marshal. It certainly caught my interest."

Vega made himself comfortable in the seat he was offered. If Boden wasn't so worried about what this conversation was regarding, he would have noted how pleasant Vega appeared, almost as if he was an old friend.

"You seem nervous," Vega commented once Boden settled himself in his chair.

Boden let out a small laugh. "Like I said, it's not every day a Marshal comes here."

"I understand," Vega began to say. "But I am here because of an arson investigation."

Boden shifted in his seat. It was just this morning the house got word to not pursue Shay's death.

"I understand two of the members in your house, Kelly Severide and Gabriela Dawson, have been looking into the warehouse fire on 5929 South State Street."

Boden sighed heavily. "New evidence came into light suggesting it was more than just squatters cooking over an open flame than as previously thought."

Vega didn't say anything, which prompted Boden to continue talking, "We received word this morning from the Captain of arson investigation, that it won't be pursued at this time."

Vega could see the disappointment in Boden's face. He too knew what it was like to lose a fellow colleague in the line of duty. "About fifteen years ago, in Omaha Nebraska, there was a fire in an abandoned warehouse. Fortunately, no one was injured in that fire, but it took several fire departments to finally put it out. Something felt off about the fire, but the only thing left at the scene was a Bunsen burner, so everyone assumed it was squatters."

"Three months later, there is another fire. This one is also at an abandoned warehouse. It's bigger than the last one, and some of the firefighters that responded get severely burned, a homeless person sleeping in the warehouse, dies. The M.O is the same. But after those two fires, there is nothing," Vega pauses.

"Almost a year later, in a different state, the same thing happens, there is a fire in an abandoned warehouse and blamed on the homeless. There are first responder injuries, enough to end a career. This keeps happening in different states, in big cities, small cities – it doesn't matter, but the M.O is always the same."

Boden was taking in the information, allowing Vega to continue talking.

"It got to the point where arson needed help to catch this S.O.B. The F.B.I got involved in the states that it had happened to, and finally we got involved. Together, we have been working with the local authorities and arson investigators to track this guy down."

"And you think this guy is responsible for the fire that took Shay's life?" Boden asked.

"Ever play chess?" Vega questioned, and Boden was confused as to what Vega was referring to, or how chess had anything to do with arson. "The last arson with the exact same M.O was in California. California is going through a drought right now, so water needs to be conserved. A small fire can turn into a huge disaster, and an even bigger fire, well, you get the drift, and it's not pretty. Arson was called to investigate and we thought all hope was lost until we found a self-starting accelerator. By some type of miracle, it had been completely preserved, and we were able to carefully get a print off of it. We ran it through every database, and there was nothing."

"That must have been frustrating," Boden commented.

"It was, believe me, it was. This guy had already killed the poor homeless that have been in seeking shelter in those warehouses, and he had ended careers of good firemen who had been badly burned by the fires this arsonist has started. It was only a matter of time before a first responder lost their life to this guy."

"I understand where you are coming from," Boden began to say. "I just don't understand the chess metaphor."

"I was alerted regarding this fire in Chicago. Luckily, I was in San Antonio at the time; so it didn't take me long to arrive. From dispatch, I was told a paramedic had been severely injured, possibly dead."

"There was no pulse at scene," Boden corrected.

Vega only nodded. "We saw an opportunity. Since the M.O. matched, we figured it was the same guy that had been starting all those fires across America. We began to wonder if this arsonist would react differently if he believed he caused a line of duty death."

"The newspaper clippings…" Boden said out loud to himself, and he received a smile and a nod from Vega.

"Of course, because the arsonist paid for the storage facility in cash, it is hard to get any concrete evidence out of that, except a confirmed visual. Ever since the incident, we've been watching certain places he might go to. Surveillance has him at her memorial, and at the Fire Academy, looking at the Memorial wall, and more importantly, her badge. He was even positively I.D. by the worker "

"So you know what he looks like," Boden said.

"We got more than what he looks like. He touched the glass. We were able to match the print from the glass to the accelerator. We got him on arson, and we are starting to connect him with the previous fires in different states. He's going away for life."

Boden leaned back in his chair. This wasn't exactly the news he was expecting to hear, but he knew Severide and Dawson would be relieved to hear this. "I appreciate you telling me this, but you didn't have to come all this way for that."

Vega looked Boden directly in the eye. "There is another reason why I am here. Remember how I asked you if you ever played chess?"

Boden slowly nodded his head.

"We had an opportunity to play a move, but that didn't work out. So, we had to think outside the box to get the same result."

"I'm not following," Boden said hesitantly.

"I know. It's a lot to take in," Vega said as he pulled out a 2-way radio from his waistband. He quickly spoke into it, telling another person to come in. Once he looked back at Boden, he noticed there was confusion in his eyes. "I promise, it'll all become clear."

Boden wondered what could possibly make this clear, and as if on cue, a vaguely familiar voice said, "Hi, Chief," causing him to turn his attention toward the door where a familiar brunette woman was now standing.

* * *

SHAY leaned her back against the doorframe, hesitant to enter. She could tell by the look on Chief Boden's face that he was clearly shocked.

"Leslie?" Boden finally managed to say, not before wondering if he had fallen asleep at his desk.

"I know you probably have a lot of questions," Vega said. "We faked her death."

"No," Boden said while shaking his head. "That's impossible. They were doing CPR on you and you weren't responding. I saw them carry you out. You were lifeless."

"I was technically dead," Shay answered. "Up until I was brought into the other ambulance. From what I was told, I was given an adrenaline shot, and it was enough to bring back a tiny pulse. I had lost a lot of blood, so I was immediately brought into surgery. I was touch and go for the longest time and I was put in a medically induced coma. When I woke up, in a secluded hospital, I was told Leslie Shay was dead. "

Boden covered his mouth.

Vega explained, "We contacted her family, explained the situation. We honestly didn't know if she was going to pull through, but for the time being it was best for everyone to believe she was dead. Once she was stable enough, we transported her to a hospital in Tacoma, Washington, and waited for the arsonist to slip up."

Boden looked back at Shay. It was different seeing her with brown hair, but that wasn't the only thing that was different about her. Her blue eyes were paler than he remembered, and she looked tired.

"I wanted to come back and explain the situation," Shay started to say. "And then go from there."

Boden got up from his seat and walked over to Shay. "This house has not been the same since you've been gone."

"I appreciate hearing that," Shay said.

"I don't know what your plans are, if you are staying here or not. But if you feel like you can come back, just say the word and you can start whenever you feel like."

"Leslie was hoping you would say that," Vega said from his seat. "That's all she ever talked about."

Shay shot Vega a look, and he put his hands up in defence.

"Is that true?" Boden asked.

"I miss it," Shay finally said. "I've had enough time to heal. I miss this house. I miss my friends—my second family. It would be nice to come back."

"Then we'll figure something out. Tomorrow morning. And make no mistake, Shay, we have missed you too."

Shay smiled as Boden embraced her in a hug.

* * *

SEVERIDE sat alone in the empty apartment he once shared with Shay. He appreciated all that Casey and Dawson had done for him since Shay had died, but he finally decided it was time to go back; after all, Dawson and Casey deserved some privacy too.

He sat down on the couch, opened a beer, and kicked his feet up on the table. He had stopped by Molly's for a bit, enjoyed a beer, watched some game highlights and decided to call it a night. He needed to change his past behavior, and for him, this was a huge start.

As he took a sip of beer, he heard a knock on the door. It was late, even for visitors, but he was curious so he made his way to the front door. He opened it slowly.

"Kelly," Shay said looking directly at him.

Severide shook his head, wondering exactly how many beers he had. The woman standing in front of him looked (aside from the brown hair) and sounded like Shay, but Shay was dead.

"If this is some kind of sick joke"—Severide began to say, but he was quickly interrupted by Shay.

"I can explain if you let me in. It's freezing out here."

Severide stepped back from the door, allowing Shay to enter. He made his way to the couch as Shay closed and locked the front door.

"This can't be happening," Severide said to himself as he read the ingredients in his beer. "Something isn't right."

"I know you must have a lot of questions," Shay said as she made her way into the living area. It was only then that Severide noticed she was carrying a small bag.

"I'm going crazy," Severide said as he plopped himself down on the couch. "This is me going crazy."

"You're not going crazy," Shay said as she sat next to him. She touched his hand with hers. "See. I'm real."

Severide's eyes began to water. "You can't be, because I saw you. You were dead. I couldn't bring you back…there was so much blood."

"I know what you think you saw," Shay said. "And I can explain everything."

Shay went on to tell Severide exactly what she told Boden: how paramedics gave her an adrenaline shot, how she was touch and go, how she was in a medically induced coma, how when she woke up she was approached by a U.S Marshal, and was told that she was dead, but only her family knew she was still alive. She went on to explain how she was in rehab, and doing well, and waited for the day they would catch the arsonist. She told him how much she missed him, and how she already spoke with Boden.

"It's a lot to take in," Shay said after a moment of letting Severide process this information.

"So, it's really you?" Severide asked as he gently touched her face.

"In the flesh," Shay joked, and he grabbed her into a tight hug as he cried out of happiness.

"I've missed you so much," Severide said once he pulled away. "You have no idea."

"I missed you too," Shay said, wiping her own tears away. "And I was wondering if you were still in the market for a roommate?"

"I am. Your room is still as it was, and nothing would make me happier."

Shay looked around the apartment. "Everything still looks the same."

"To be honest, I've only been here for three weeks. Before that I was living with Casey."

"Anything else happen?" Shay joked.

"I got married in Vegas," Severide answered.

"What!" Shay exclaimed. "For real?"

"Her name was Brittney," Severide said. "And before you ask where she is, it didn't work out. We were both going through some things and…" He trailed off.

"I'm sorry," Shay said.

"It's not your fault."

"But I made everyone believe I was dead."

"I understand why you did it, I do. What I don't understand"—He grabbed a lock of Shay's brown hair –"is this."

Shay swatted Severide's hand. "First of all, this is the closest colour to my natural hair colour. Hello. I had dark roots. Secondly,"—She parted her hairline on the right side, revealing a large scar on her scalp—"it hides my fancy scar better than blonde does."

Severide cringed at the sight of it.

"The doctors had to put a metal plate in my head from where I was hit by the beam. It looks worse than it actually is. Ironically, the hardest part in all of this is coming back."

"I'm glad you're back," Severide said again. "And tomorrow, I will be with you, and everyone will be happy and relieved to see you. The house just wasn't the same without you."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

SEVERIDE slowly stirred awake, allowing his mind to catch up with his body. The morning sun was beginning to peek through his curtains, and he tried to recall the events of last night.

He quickly sat himself up in bed as he remembered going to Molly's after shift, coming back home, drinking a beer, and then talking to Shay. Had he hallucinated the whole thing?

Severide made his way out of his room. The apartment was eerily quiet, and everything looked exactly the same. There was no drastic change or cosmic shift that happened when Shay had died. All there was now was just quiet and emptiness—as it had been for months.

_'I am selling this place, and never drinking again,'_ Severide thought to himself as he made his way toward the stairs, and as he descended his attention was diverted to the brunette woman sitting at the kitchen table, looking into her coffee.

"I'm still here," Shay said without looking up from her coffee. "And you're still not crazy."

"Well good morning to you too, Casper," Severide answered as he made his way over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Shay turned around to face Severide. "First of all, if you're calling me Casper because I am ridiculously pale right now – that's rude. If you're calling me Casper because you think I am a _friendly_ ghost – I also take offense to that."

Severide laughed. "Sorry. Good morning Casper, the _sarcastic_ ghost."

"Better. You're forgiven," Shay said as she turned back toward her coffee.

"Have I told you how much I've missed you?" Severide asked.

"About a million times before we went to bed last night."

Severide sat next to Shay at the kitchen table. "You ready for today?"

"I thought I was. Maybe it was a mistake or too soon. I don't want to freak anyone out, or have them be angry…I'm rambling."

"Hey," Severide began to say as he took Shay's hand in his. "It's okay. If you can't or don't want to do this, that's fine. No one is going to fault you, okay? And if you do decide to do this, and you feel overwhelmed, just look at me and I'll shut it down. But I meant what I said yesterday. Everyone will be happy to see you."

Shay looked up at Severide and smiled. "What would I do without you?"

"How about we try not to think about that ever again," Severide answered as Shay leaned her head on his shoulder.

* * *

THE briefing room at 51 was the second most popular room in the house, aside from the kitchen. It was the only other place in the house where members from Truck, Squad, and the Ambulance could sit together as a group and not have to worry about designated seating arrangements. If the walls of the briefing room could talk, it would share stories of triumph, loss, and tomfoolery.

Everyone was now seated in the room. Laughter filled the air as some of the guys exchanged jokes, or failed conquests of their youth. No matter how long they have all worked together, everyday they had learned something new about each other.

Herrmann was known for his outlandish stories, and it was almost impossible not to laugh at his past failures. He was telling a story about his first business, the one he opened when he was 10 years old, selling lemonade to neighborhood kids. It was a good gig, but he wanted to expand his market to reach adults. His father always used to say, '_This drink could use a kick,'_ reach into the liquor cabinet and pour in a splash of whatever he had into a coke or juice. His father, of course, told Herrmann, that this was only for adults, so not knowing any better, he snuck into his father's liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and began marketing lemonade—with a kick—to adults.

"How many did you sell?" Cruz asked over the laughter in the room.

"One," Herrmann said disappointingly. "One of the moms bought the drink, tasted the alcohol and told my dad. I never got put out of business faster than that day."

Everyone erupted with laughter, just as Chief Boden made his way into the room. There was a smile on Boden's face as he said, "What did I miss?"

"Just another failed business venture of Christopher Herrmann Incorporated," Herrmann answered, and everyone settled down to give Boden their undivided attention.

"Today is an unusual day," Boden began to say wasting no time. "I have re-routed some of our calls for now. If there is something major, or close to this house, we will be alerted, but for the minor calls, it will be handled by different divisions until we get everything sorted out."

Some of the members exchanged glances, not knowing what this meeting was about.

"First on the agenda is Peter Mills," Boden said, and everyone turned to look at Mills, who looked surprised to be called on.

"I received a report from Dr. Bachman in regards to your appointment. He has recommended slowly easing you back into Squad."

"Are you serious?" Mills asked as a smile spread across his face, while members of 51 congratulated him. He wanted nothing more than to return to Squad, something he thought would never happen again.

Brett looked at Mills. She was happy for him, but she also enjoyed working with him as a partner on Ambulance 61.

Mills looked over at Brett, he could see she was giving him the '_I'm so happy for you'_ look, and his smile faded, and he suddenly felt like he was in a rock and a hard place. He too enjoyed working with Brett. "What's going to happen to 61? Is Brett going to be getting a new partner?" He asked.

"For now, Mills, you will still be on Ambulance 61. Lieutenant Severide will be doing in house training exercises to make sure you can handle being upside down, up high, and working in fast paced environments. Once Lieutenant Severide is satisfied that you can handle that, you will be placed on modified Squad duties."

"That's not so bad," Mouch said.

Mills had to agree with Mouch. The worst-case scenario was never returning to Squad.

"As for Brett's new partner, we do have a replacement, who will be starting today. As of now, she will only be shadowing on calls. You and Brett will be in charge. She is only there to observe, and help if needed."

"Sounds good," Brett said, and she was curious as to who her new partner could possibly be.

"As for the second item of business, last night I received some news…regarding the building fire on 5929 South State Street," Boden said.

Dawson perked up in her chair. She could feel a lump in her throat.

Boden took in a breath, "As of a week ago, the arsonist who started the building fire has been captured."

There was a sigh of relief that filled the room. Dawson was still frozen in her chair, not sure how to take the news, and everyone else had questions that filled the room, like: 'how come Captain Cunningham couldn't have to told Severide and Dawson yesterday?' And, 'Why did they wait so long to tell us?'

Boden put his hands up to silence the room, while Dawson glanced over at Severide, who seemed the least shocked about the news. _'Did he know something?'_ She thought to herself.

"This is what I can tell you," Boden said once everyone was quiet. He was going to tell the house exactly what Vega had told him before he left. "The arsonist's name is Jonathan Gilbert. He's a 40-something serial arsonist who goes state-to-state, starting fires in abandoned warehouses, and enjoys the chaos surrounding a fire he has caused. He has killed homeless people, and injured many firefighters nationwide. As of now, he is looking at life, and they are trying to connect him to other fires. Bottom line, he will be rotting in a cell exactly where he belongs."

"Here, here," Herrmann said.

"We just have one more matter to address," Boden said. "This one is a little more difficult for me to put into words, but it has to do with the replacement Paramedic. I thought it would be best for her to answer any questions." Boden made his way over to the phone that was lying on the front desk, pressed a button, and paged whoever was in Boden's office to come in now.

This was very odd, and whispers began to fill the room. New members came into the house all the time, but for them to be given a Q&amp;A seemed peculiar. Everyone's heart seemed to race with anticipation.

It didn't take long for the woman to get to the briefing room, and the first thing everyone noticed about her was long brown hair that was covering her face. It was hard to tell who she was by her side profile, but once she turned around to face everyone, there was no denying who this woman was.

"Jesus Christ!" Herrmann shouted loudly, encapsulating the feelings of everyone in the room, after a moment of shocked silence had passed.

"I still go by Leslie Shay," Shay answered, trying to alleviate the shock everyone was feeling with a joke.

Severide got up from his seat and made his way next to Shay, as Shay looked at every member of 51. Her eyes met Dawson's, but Dawson quickly averted them.

Shay shook that off. "I know you must have a lot of questions."

"We carried you out. You were…dead…" Casey said.

Shay explained everything, from being revived just barely by the other Ambulance she was put into, to being in a coma, touch-and-go, and at a hospital in Tacoma, to the metal plate being put in her head from where the beam hit her, to the U.S Marshal faking her death to catch an arsonist who would kill or injure a lot more people, to finally being able to come back home yesterday.

"Did anyone know you were alive?" Cruz asked.

"My parents," Shay answered. "They went along with it, only because they were certain I was going to die anyway."

The room went quiet again. These last few months had been hard on everyone. Now that Shay was back—actually back, the revelation had come as a shock.

Mouch stood up. "Well, I for one am happy that you're back."

"Thanks Mouch," Shay said as members slowly made their way to Shay to give her a welcome back, hug.

Brett, who had not known Shay before, stood to the side and noticed Dawson was still at her seat. As she made her way over to Dawson she asked, "Are you okay?"

Dawson turned to Brett, gave her a small smile, and as she got up answered, "I'm fine. I just need some air."

Brett was about to say something when Mills called out to her.

"Shay, this is Sylvie Brett," Mills said once Brett had come beside him. Brett extended her hand and Shay shook it.

"It's nice to meet you, Brett," Shay said.

"You as well. I've heard great things about you, and I am really glad you're okay." Brett replied.

Once the introduction was over, everyone began to talk to Shay and tell her how much they've missed her. While she appreciated the love, and had missed them terribly too, her eyes were focused on Dawson, who was leaving the room. Her worst fear about coming back was that everyone would be mad, and possibly hate her for making them believe she had died. Everyone else seemed to welcome her back with open arms, and she couldn't understand why Dawson appeared to be avoiding her.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

DAWSON stood outside of the firehouse, and breathed in the winter air. As she inhaled, the cold burned her lungs, and she embraced the sensation.

"Gabby, what are you doing out here? It is 23 degrees, aren't you freezing?" Casey asked as he approached Dawson. He began to rub his arms in an attempt to keep warm.

Dawson, who was just wearing a long-sleeved candidate shirt, hadn't felt the cold just yet. Her heart was still racing from seeing Shay, and the blood pumping through her veins was keeping her warm.

"I just needed some air," Dawson answered. "It was intense in there." Her right hand habitually made its way to the charm on the necklace she was wearing, and it was only then had she realized the necklace was Shay's. Memories of her and Severide receiving Shay's personal belongings from the nurse at the hospital came rushing back. She could still see Shay's dusty uniform folded neatly in a large plastic bag, and the necklace lying on top.

Casey glanced over at Dawson, who seemed to be distant. "Are you okay?"

Dawson turned to Casey while covering the necklace with her shirt. With a big smile on her face she said, "I'm fine. But it is cold, so I am going to head back inside."

Casey watched as Dawson headed back into the apparatus bay. He was confused by her behavior. He figured if anyone were happy to see Shay again, it would be Severide and Dawson. Severide was clearly happy, and Casey noted it was the first time in months that his smile seemed genuine and not forced. Dawson, on the other hand, looked as though she had not even seen Shay. And if she had seen Shay, it was like she was reacting to a ghost. He knew Dawson had a lot on her plate, but this—this was so unlike her.

As he headed back into the Firehouse, he made a mental note to talk about this more when they got home. Maybe Dawson would open up more if it was just the two of them, and not having to worry about anyone accidently stumbling across their conversation.

* * *

SHAY put her bag down and stood in front of her locker, surprised to see that it was still there. She ran her hand over the masking tape that had her childish handwriting on it. When Darden had died, his locker was cleared out within six weeks, and the contents given to his wife. The same happened with Rebecca Jones too, after she tragically took her own life, and she and Dawson had cleared it out within a day. It was odd for her to know that her apartment belongings had been packed and sent to her family, but this remained untouched.

"No one could bring themselves to do it," Severide said from behind, which caused Shay to turn around and face him. "We tried, but we couldn't even enter the combination to open it, let alone remove your name."

"Or were you afraid you might find a box of tampons?" Shay asked as she made her way to the bench and sat down, remembering Otis's spiel about not wanting to empty Jones's locker because of gender sensitivity—whatever that meant.

Severide laughed as he joined her on the bench. "I'm glad to see you still have your sense of humor."

Shay raised an eyebrow. "What? You thought I was going to be a completely different person?"

Severide nodded his head. "I don't know how brain injuries work. Some people change completely. There are stories about people who suffer traumatic brain injuries, wake up from a coma, and their personalities do a 360."

"I assure you, I am the same person."

* * *

DAWSON made her way into the locker room, stopping abruptly once she heard Shay and Severide talking, and taking cover behind a set of lockers. Shay's back was facing Dawson, and she could hear Shay listing all the things that made her the same person to Severide: sarcasm, cold exterior, impeccable fashion choices, and an amazing sense of humor.

Dawson heard Severide laugh, before he said, "With all those traits, you must have been a real hit while you were in the hospital."

Dawson saw Shay slump down, as if she was disappointed about something.

"Don't even get me started on the hospital, okay?" Shay said. "Just…don't."

From what Dawson could tell by Severide's facial expression was that he thought he had said something wrong.

"I'm sorry Shay, I didn't mean to bring up any memories of you being there—I am sure it must have been really hard for you to recover, and adjust to waking up and from a coma and to be told they had to fake your death to catch a terrible guy, and"—

Shay sighed sadly, loud enough for her to interrupt Severide's apologetic ramble.

"Nurse Lori..."

Severide's face contorted in confusion. "Who?"

"This nurse I had at the hospital. I was crushing hard, Kelly. She was a total babe. I sometimes would exaggerate some symptoms to get a little extra time with her"—Severide rolled his eyes –"but she ended up being straight. What I thought was flirting was just her doing her job and being friendly."

Dawson covered her mouth, suppressing a chuckle. Typical Shay, still terrible at sussing out who was a lesbian and who wasn't.

"Broke my heart," Shay continued.

Severide shook his head. "Of course. Only you, after a traumatic event, would be thinking about scoring with ladies."

Dawson couldn't see Shay's face, but she guessed her expression was along the lines of '_A girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do.'_

"And to think I thought you were referring to something else."

"You would have done the exact same thing and you know it," Shay commented.

Dawson watched as Severide and Shay got up from the bench. She knew she would have to make her way out of the locker room before they caught her hiding behind the lockers. She was just about to leave when she heard Shay loudly gasp out in pain and Severide frantically call Shay's name.

Dawson hurried back to the spot she was standing at and peeked through the corner and noticed Shay was sitting back down on the bench, clutching her head as if she was in pain. She could feel her heart begin to beat faster and faster.

"Shay! Are you all right?" Severide asked as he put a hand on Shay's back.

Shay didn't answer at first, which caused Severide to grow more concerned. Dawson could tell by the look on his face that he didn't know what was wrong or how to help.

"I'm going to get help," Severide finally decided, and Dawson was about to run out from her hiding place and jump into action. She may be a firefighter now, but she was still a very qualified paramedic.

Shay grabbed Severide's hand, stopping him. "Don't worry about it. It's just a headache. There's aspirin in my bag."

Severide grabbed Shay's bag and opened it, pulling out a prescription bottle, opening it and handing it to Shay.

Dawson watched as Shay took out two pills, and before Severide could ask her if she needed water, she had popped two.

As Shay closed the bottle she explained to a visibly shaken Severide what had just happened. "The metal plate, sometimes, gives me headaches. Mostly it's bearable, nothing an Advil can't handle. Sometimes, they are bad, like right now. I find it's worse during severe climate changes."

Dawson could tell Severide was speechless, and still worried. Dawson clutched her chest; trying to ease her racing heart after the mini-anxiety attack she had wondering if Shay was going to be okay. The locker room air felt suffocating, and she needed to get out.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Gah! I am so sorry I haven't updated this story in a very long time. Can you believe I am still pissed they killed off Shay? Anyway, after seeing the third season and watching two main ensemble characters go, in such a short time, it doesn't have the same appeal to me anymore. However, I **LOVED** the first two seasons of Chicago Fire. I loved all those characters and their interactions. The show my have left a void in my heart, but I can at least continue telling a version of their story though my own. The first two seasons of Chicago Fire, for me, was what it is all about. Shay deserved a better story, so I will continue telling it. She may not live on in the show, but she will live on in any fan fiction I continue to write.

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

**SHAY** made her way to the Ambulatory Bay and over to Ambulance 61. The last time she had seen 61 was on the day of the accident. She had no recollection of that day, and what she did know, she was told by Arson investigators and U.S. Marshals—and for now, that was probably for the best. It hadn't been easy for her to die, and it certainly wasn't easy for her to come back.

She pulled open the ambulance back door, stepped inside, and closed it shut. As she looked around, it felt as though she was being welcomed back by an old friend, and as she sat down on the bench, she was thankful her brain injury didn't take her memories, as she had so many fond moments with Dawson in the back of this rig.

It had felt weird for Shay to know that for the last 6 months, Mills and Brett had been operating Ambulance 61. For five years, it had just been her and Dawson, with the occasional replacement. Before everything had happened, she knew Dawson was going to be a firefighter (and a great one at that), but a part of her knew it was going to be hard to give up the best partner she ever had. However, she was comforted by the fact that at least with her still being on the ambo, one half of the duo would be keeping 61 alive. But now, with both of them having been gone, it felt as though 61 had died too.

The back door of the Ambulance suddenly opened, drawing Shay's attention to the startled blonde named Sylvie Brett.

Fumbling with her words Brett began to say, "Oh, God. I am so sorry. I didn't think anyone was in here."

"It's fine," Shay said with chuckle while noticing Brett's hesitation on whether or not she should enter. "You can come in. I don't bite."

Brett's cheeks turned a bright red as she entered the back, and Shay, while taking a seat, watched the woman look desperately around for something—anything.

"Damn," Brett finally said with a defeated sigh. "I forgot why I came in here."

Shay took this time to study Brett, the stranger of 51, as Brett plopped herself down on the seat adjacent to Shay. From what Shay could see, Brett was a beautiful and a very attractive woman. She had blonde hair—_probably naturally—_and piercing blue eyes. In a way, Brett reminded Shay of her pre-brunette self. She wondered if anyone at 51 had done double takes at Brett when she first came in. She wondered if anyone thought it was interesting that her replacement was an almost replica of herself.

"How are you liking 51?" Shay asked, breaking the silence that filled the Ambulance.

"It's great. I am also really liking Chicago too."

"You're not from Chicago?"

Brett shook her head. "I'm from a very small town in Indiana."

"What brings you all the way here?"

Brett remembered her first conversation with Otis on how she ended up in Chicago. This time around, she would be more truthful. "My ex-fiancé, Harrison, called off our wedding. When that happened, I just I ran as far away as I could." Brett paused for a moment, and then chuckled to herself. "The funniest thing about that is, he shows up months later, begging for my forgiveness, and asking me to take him back."

Shay could sympathize with Brett. The same thing happened with her and Clarice, sans the fiancée because same-sex marriage wasn't legal when they were together.

"That really sucks," Shay said.

"It did, at the time. And when he came back it brought back a lot of…feelings. But now, I can honestly say that it was for the better. I met this really wonderful guy and I'm happy."

Shay raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "Does this mystery man have a name?"

Brett blushed again, which made Shay even more curious.

"Is it someone from this house?"

"It's Cruz," Brett blurted out. "We just kind of bonded over Zumba."

Shay laughed, but she was glad Cruz had finally found someone who seemed genuinely nice.

Brett continued to talk about Zumba—how Cruz hosted lessons in his spare time—and other things that had happened since she had been here at 51. As Brett told stories of comradely, friendships, and facts about members of 51 that even Shay didn't know, the more she became aware of just how much had changed since she had been gone. It dawned on Shay that Brett was no longer the stranger that had come into 51 to replace her and change the working balance of the House. Instead, she was the stranger that was upsetting the working balance of 51. The realization of that alone had given her an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that didn't go away.

* * *

**AFTER** shift, some of the members of 51 had headed to Molly's. As being owners of Molly's, Herrmann, Otis, and Dawson were obligated to be there, however it became a second home to most of the members of 51. There were times when the bar had become so busy that the guys would lend a hand that was greatly appreciated.

On this particular night, much like the shift at the House, it was slow. Dawson, who was behind the bar, was grateful that most of the patrons were from the House. Today had been _interesting_…to say the least, and all she wanted to do was to go home and crawl into her bed.

Casey made his way to the bar after he noticed Dawson acting a little more distant than usual. "Everything okay?"

Dawson forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired. It's been a long day today."

"Agreed," Casey said before he took a sip of his beer. It wasn't everyday that people come back from the so-called-dead. However, he couldn't help but notice how different Dawson had been acting. Severide had seemed to take the news well, but Dawson—she appeared distant, like her mind was still processing that Shay was back.

As Casey studied Dawson and slowly drank his beer, Otis and Herrmann made their way to the bar with big smiles on their face.

"Dawson! Just the woman I wanted to see," Herrmann said as he leaned over the counter.

Dawson quickly scanned the small, quaint, bar before looking back at Herrmann and saying, "I'm the only girl here."

Herrmann was quiet for a moment, not realizing that the bar was lacking people with XX chromosomes – but that was an issue for another day, and he filed it in the back of his mind as one of Christopher Herrmann's-get-more-female-clientele-at-Molly's- to do list.

"We had an idea," Otis suddenly said. "In light of today's events, Herrmann and I were thinking about closing Molly's for a night and throwing Shay a welcome back party."

Casey noticed Dawson's body tense up. It was the same way her body tensed up days after Shay's funeral whenever someone had mentioned her name.

"What do you think?" Herrmann asked.

Dawson smiled briefly before she said, "I think that's a great idea."

Herrmann and Otis seemed pleased as they began to talk about Shay's surprise welcome back party, as Dawson politely excused herself to get more supplies in the back.

Casey began to wonder if he was the only one to notice Dawson's strange behavior.

* * *

**SEVERIDE** wrapped his arm over Shay's shoulder as the two of them took a stroll by the river walk. It was Shay's idea to go out after shift, as the River Walk was one of her favourite places in Chicago. It was also one of the places she longed to see again while she was recovering. No one would ever understand the immense joy she felt eating a deep-dish pizza and seeing the night lights reflect off the water, even in the cold.

"Are you sure I am not dreaming this?" Severide suddenly asked, and Shay gave him a small smile.

"Does it feel like a dream?" Shay asked.

Severide abruptly stopped, causing both of them to stop walking, and moved so he was standing directly in front of Shay. He put both his hands on her shoulder and looked her over.

"No. I guess not," Severide finally said. He grabbed a lock of Shay's brown hair as he added, "I never dreamed you would be a brunette."

Shay rolled her eyes as she pushed Severide off of her. As Severide chuckled, Shay said, "Again with the hair?"

"I was only kidding," Severide said as he wrapped his arm around Shay again. "I'm just so used to seeing you blonde."

"If you miss blonde hair so much, why don't you dye your hair blonde?"

Severide laughed. "Are you kidding? Blonde would look terrible on me."

Now it was Shay's turn to look over Severide. After a moment she said, "Nah. I think you'd look good. Kind of like Casey, no?"

Severide just shook his head as Shay laughed at the thought.


End file.
